Soul
by Wishing-for-a-Zoro-plushie
Summary: 6:11,12,13 - As Sam's voice screamed at him to get Death away; screamed at him that this wasn't the right thing to do, Dean swallowed and had a moment of doubt. Rating T and complete - No Wincest; just family stuff


_A/N:__ Un-beta'd but I like to do these little introspection things. I proof read it myself but do excuse mistakes I've missed. : (_

_**Rating: T for language  
>Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters lest Castiel smite my ass back into the Dark Ages. <strong>_

_**Soul**_

As Sam's voice screamed at him to get Death away; screamed at him that this wasn't the right thing to do, Dean swallowed and had a moment of doubt. What if everyone was right? What if Sam would die? Then this was all pointless… But he couldn't keep Sam the way he was. That whole Terminator gig was just a horrible and sick imitation of the real Sammy that _should_ have been at his side. No. This was the right thing to do and if Sam died during this, then at least… at least…

"At least what…?" Dean found his own whisper loud even as Sam's agonized screams filled the area. At least Sam would have his soul back? Well, if he was dead, then his soul was probably going to go straight the fuck back where it came from. There would be no Sam for Dean to speak to again and there would be no saving the other from the pit this time, so what was the point in this?

… It was the right thing to do.

Once Death had left and Castiel was in the panic room with Sam, Dean stood outside and listened as his brother screamed again and then fell silent once more. How many times did he have to hear his little brother scream like he was being torn apart from the inside out? Every time it felt like he'd failed as a big brother by letting Sam feel such a pain.

As Castiel exited the panic room and his large, blue eyes turned to look up and into Dean's, the older Winchester had never felt so small. The sheer dominating power that emanated from the shorter Angel was almost overwhelming. What Cass told Dean then, shook the brother to the core and he couldn't help but flinch away as the smaller man leaned up and closer to him.

"If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright." Those words lingered in Dean's brain long after Cass had left and he moved upstairs to go and talk to Bobby and have a shot – or nine – of Hunter's Helper. The two sat mostly in silence, some awkward and stressed conversation mixing through but nothing could stop those words revolving around in Dean's head like a door that couldn't be shut.

_If you wanted to kill your brother… _

Castiel didn't understand; no one understood. Not even Bobby. That didn't stop his thoughts rattling around like a dog with a squeaky toy, though. So that moment when Sam appeared in the room and gave Dean a hug that he thought would never come, every shred of doubt disappeared and everything felt right again; whole. Sam felt whole. His presence was no longer a looming and ominous threat but instead that comforting, warm sense that was Dean's little brother.

Their first case was the best Dean felt since meeting up with his brother again, and as the real Sam asked him questions that were generally an inquiry as to if Dean had morals or not, it made the older Winchester's heart beat solidly and his chest free up so his own soul could breathe again.

_Look after Sammy. Always look after Sammy. _

He had fulfilled his duty as a big brother and he had restored that which had been lost. Then, like everything tended to go with them, things turned bad. After that case in the town that Robo-Sam had visited; that damned _trap_ that had begun triggering Sam's memories again, Dean began to feel as though things were slipping. The wall was crumbling...

Like every normal person did when things started to slip, they held tighter and he told his brother in a tone forceful enough to blow a house down, to not scratch at the wall and that they were getting out of there.

That advice proved too late as barely an hour after that conversation, Sam was on the floor convulsing – _dying_.

Dean couldn't believe it. He'd only just gotten his Sammy back and now the guy was not breathing, had no pulse and was lying on the floor; dead. He begged, he pleaded, he prayed to Castiel but the bastard ignored him – and with probably good reason – but nothing worked. What were only three or so minutes, stretched to feel like a day had passed before Sam suddenly opened his eyes and gasped in air like a beached fish. In that moment though, when his little brother's eyes had opened, Dean felt relief flood through him but felt it just as quickly flow away; the look in Sam's eyes hadn't been _Sam_.

It had been sheer torment, horror and agony beyond what any human being, wicked as they were, should ever feel. Once again, even as Dean dragged Sammy out of that place and put those memories in his rear-view mirror, that shred of doubt bit and nagged at the back of the older Winchester's brain.

_If you wanted to kill your brother… _

Dean's lips pursed and his foot slammed harder down on the accelerator.

"We never should have gone there." The words held more meaning to himself than even he understood and fell on deaf ears as Sam had long since fallen asleep in the passenger side.

_If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright._

"Fuck up, Cass." Dean's cheeks were wet with tears that he refused to admit he had shed; the road swam in front of his face but that was just because it was late and he was tired and the lights were getting to him. Totally _not_ because he was silently sobbing and losing control. Sam's tired moan and shift brought Dean back to his senses and as quickly as the fit had hit, it was hidden and crammed back into that tight box in his chest again.

Like Sam had been shut in that box. With Michael and Lucifer… for a year and four months— and in Hell, that meant that Sam's soul had been down there for 180 years. How could Dean have made that promise to not try and save him? How could he have _abandoned _his little brother like that? Spent that time with Lisa and Ben in _happiness_, knowing, fucking _**knowing**_ his little brother was being tormented?

Man did he feel like a fucking _hero. _Not.

_If you wanted to kill your brother…_

Sam was going to be fine; Dean would make damn certain of that.

_A/N:__ Done and dusted. Reviews are appreciated, thank you for reading and flames will be used to heat my room during this cold freaking winter - so have at it, peoples. :)_


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